Stranger Inside
by libranravenclaw
Summary: Eve, a muggle girl, is ripped from her life, when her boyfriend begins to act strangely. He uses words such as mudblood, suddenly possesses a wand that he uses to torture her with and no longer goes by his given name. But he won't let her go. Voldemort/OC
1. Strange Words

Disclaimer: I do now own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.R's delightful characters or stories. The characters of Eve Swarthing and Tom Raimus, however, are my own.

_**Chapter One: Strange Words**_

The sound of running feet echoed on the dark streets of London, just barely reaching the hearing range of people clustered in front of clubs and restaurants. When Eve passed, running by in a blur of auburn and paleness, only a few people would stop to watch her, comment about the strangeness and then almost promptly forget about it. No one seemed to notice the dark figures following her at a steady pace, like shadows catching up with their master. Hearing a crash, and the echo of hurried footsteps behind Eve made her ears ring with apprehension. Her tennis shoes made loud slapping noises on the wet pavement as she increased her speed and she could feel that the soles of her shoes, old and worn, now barely had grips. The realization seemed to have come just a bit too late, when Eve turned to run into a small alley and her shoes skidded across the slick street, propelling her into the side of a building. Her thin, pale hands rose up just in time, smacking the bricks as she caught herself, just before she would have slammed her face into the wall. For a mere second, Eve took the time to breathe deeply, making several clouds of pale condensation rise in the cool air. Further down the street came the sound of critical laughter, high pitched and filled with what Eve recognized as cruelty. The laughter made adrenaline shoot through her veins, and, having caught her balance and breath, Eve was off once more. She spun on her heel and was heading down the alley that opened up in a wide street, filled with businesses, clubs and, thankfully, _people_.

_This day could be the worst one yet_

_I just won't relax, can't catch my breath_

There were faint tear tracks running down her sculpted cheeks, but they had long since dried. She had halted her crying much, much earilier, in favor of using her stamina for running. Eve had found that sobbing simply didn't work all that well when you were literally running for your life. Without a second thought, Eve darted into the traffic of the lamp lit streets, dodging the slow going, honking cars. Her chest heaving, she leaped onto the sidewalk when she reached it, turning her head when she heard a car screech to a stop behind her. A middle aged woman had rolled down her window, her face filled with fury.

"Watch where yer going, damn bint!" She screamed at Eve, revved her engine and then drove off, her tires squealing in protest. Eve took a step away from the road, and glancing over the people crowded in front of the near by club, decided that she could breathe easy for a moment. Bent half-way over, her palms resting on her knees as she sucked the cool air into her lungs, Eve felt the urge to cry warm her face. Not because of running into traffic, or even because of the way that woman had insulted her. Eve's gray-blue eyes glanced upwards and her thoughts flew into oblivion when she focused on two people standing outside the club doors, laughing together. Eve quickly disregarded the woman, but standing next to her was - it was _**him**_.

_Because I'm sick and tired of you'll be fine_

_Well how do you know, can you read minds?_

No one could ever mistake him as just "one of the guys", everything about him screamed _other_, from his looks and clothes to the way he spoke. He was dressed in todays clothes of aristocracy and male beauty. A tailored suit jacket, dark emerald green, was draped over his shoulders and beneath it, he wore a white, collared shirt, the top few buttons left undone to show a pale expanse of chest. His sleeves were rolled halfway up, the better to show off his slim, finely muscled arms and though the black slacks he wore also seemed to fit him perfectly, a thin black belt was buckled around his waist. He could fake actions, could hide himself, even while he drew the attention of all the near-by females. Ice seemed to call through Eve's veins, and it was as if her fear was a siren to him, because his gaze turned from the little blond he was speaking to until it finally met with Eve's eyes. He smiled and it was like the smile of darkness personified, that of an incubus, sexy, shadowed and with a hint of violence and malice just lingering beneath the surface. Of course, unless someone knew him, they would never guess there was any ill will in his smile, it was as if his flaws were invisible to any who didn't know his name. The blond he was now ignoring, having only been exposed to the beauty of him, had caught Eve's eyes as well and was shooting her a pouting, kiddish glare. If Eve's heart had been pounding with exertion before, it was now trying to break through her ribcage.

With a soft cry of fear, only audible to her own ears, Eve turned away from him and began to run once more. Cursing inside, Eve felt her shoes slip in the leftover rain once more and she nearly fell onto her backside, but a firm grip upon her forearms kept her from falling. Eve's head snapped up as the person pulled her all the way to her feet and her eyes widened immensely when she met a gaze near the same shade as her own.

_So take it while you can, so you can meet demands_

_My insanity is what you thrive on_

"How unexpected, darling," he purred, one of his arms curling around her waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His voice was just like his appearance, gorgeously sinful, but once more, Eve detected a hint of violence beneath the calm exterior and it didn't bode well for her. She could see the blond out of the corner of her eye, speaking with another girl, both of whom were now watching the scene before them with disgust plastered across their faces. Eve tried to even her breathing and spitefully wished that if only for a moment, one or both of those girls could be in her shoes for just a moment, to feel the fear in her veins and see the monster beneath the beauty.

His skin was the color of well made porcelain dolls and the different shades of lights that illuminated the outside of club gave him an almost ethereal quality, as if this were all a dream, or a nightmare. For a split second, Eve was caught in the dark gray-green of his eyes, recalling all the times those eyes had brought her happiness and pleasure, rather than the incoherent pain and fear she was experiencing now. His hold on her loosened and the monster beneath the surface seemed appeased, as if pleased with her reaction. Taking a breath, her whole body tensing, Eve took her chance. She yanked herself out of his grasp, turned to run and found herself slipping once more. Eve couldn't see, but sensed that his hands were reaching out for her, but her momentum had already thrown her to the ground, and her hands just barely caught herself in a push up. She was sure that the heels of her palms were skinned, but she didn't stop to look. Instead, her body suddenly stretched taught, like a runner waiting for the gun, then she loosened and was off.

She heard his frustrated curse behind her and a large, loud noise, like a giant dropping and cracking a boulder, but she didn't pay overmuch attention. Eve slid in a puddle as she whirled around a corner, but she had been ready for it and her feet didn't fly out from under her. She turned her head slightly to see if anyone was running after her and then let out a grunt when she smacked into someone and felt their arms close about her slim form. As the arms locked around her back, Eve spied the emerald green suit jacket and she let out a screech, which was muffled by his chest in her face.

"**NO!**" She screamed as she turned her face up towards air. It seemed to surprise him, but he tightened his arms about her in response and molded his body to hers. He pushed her against the stone wall of the nearest building, seeming to know that anyone driving by would assume them to be lovers. Even people walking by on the street would assume they were having some type of private moment, unless they saw Eve's face. Tensing, for his touch was a mockery of a lover's embrace, Eve tried to slip out of his arms, but was only rewarded with her shoulders grinding into the bricks behind her. He smiled wickedly as he leaned his head down, his pale pink lips pressing firmly against her ear as he spoke quietly.

_So rip it from my soul, so everyone will know in the end_

_We were never friends_

"I suggest you stop struggling, my _dear_ heart. You know that I can make it so much worse," and his voice held relish as he whispered, his breath a soft tickle against the shell of her ear. Not too long ago, the feeling would have made her melt, her cheeks flush with a passionate heat, but now it only made her hair feel like it was standing on end. Someone turned the corner and began to pass them, and when he felt her shoulders tense, her tangled one of his hands in her long, dark auburn hair, and pulled, a silent warning not to say anything to the passing man. Involuntarily, she shuddered and then felt his other hand slide down her thin arm. He could feel and note all of her movements with a perverse pleasure, for he knew that they were all ruled by fear. His eyes quickly raked over Eve's face, and the corners of his mouth quirked upwards as he wondered whether her skin was paler than his own because of shock and fear or whether it was natural. When the man was well out of earshot and Eve's sight, Eve began to wriggle in his arms, trying once more to search for a way out. His laugh was slightly hoarse, as if it were strained from passion and lust.

"Just remember, it was _your_ choice," he whispered into her ear. She could feel his lips part and a warm breath blew against her neck as he moved a step away, startling her into stillness, just as she felt something hard and slightly sharp poke into her hip. Eve's gray-blue eyes widened as she saw a small flash of red and then, with a single word - "_Crucio,_" - her body was suddenly upon the ground, writhing in extreme pain. The pain was so intense that she could barely open her lips, let alone let out a scream. He watched in silence as she appeared to be having a seizure on the pavement, his eyes lingering on her clenched hands, the grim set of her mouth. With a wave of his wand, he cut it short and her body, so tired, so exhausted, from running for what seemed like hours, from emotional turmoil and adrenaline pumping through her veins, collapsed in a sorry heap. A continual shivering went through her aching muscles and Eve let loose a soft, agonized cry. Something brushed against the pavement near her head, so Eve forced herself to jerk away from the sound, her eyes cracking open to see two other people, dressed in black, hooded cloaks, flanking their _Master_. The masks that covered their faces were both beautiful and terrible to look at. They were made of some silver metal, with different etchings on the cheeks and around the eyes to distinguish between people. They were strange, frightening, works of art.

_Have you ever felt lost inside_

_So unloved within that you almost die?_

Shaking, Eve's eyes flickered to him. He was still staring down at her in silence, all emotions, both good and bad, leeched from his face. But when she let out a dry, heaving sob, anger filled his features. He said nothing, made no move to hurt or help her and Eve prayed that she had the slightest bit of a reprieve. Her gaze still locked with his, Eve was drawn back to the beginning of the summer, when she had first arrived in England. It was her dream vacation and it was supposed to have been filled with wonder and excitement over the historic sites she couldn't wait to visit. Having made the choice to come alone however, had made Eve incredibly lonely. One day, sitting by herself at a small cafe, he had asked to join her at her table, seeing as all the others were currently full. She had hesitantly agreed, and the two had made pleasant and easy conversation. Eve had returned a day later, to see him waving her to the same table. The strange ritual had continued, day after day, until he had finally gotten the courage to tell her: "I fancy you, surely you've noticed." Eve had been smitten with the gorgeous man, and when the time had come for her to leave after her month long vacation, he had pleaded with her to stay. He had tried gentle nudges, soft whispers and finally a tearful spout of begging. Eve, having felt as unhappy with the situation as he, didn't have the heart to refuse. She lengthened the vacation, wondering whether she wanted it to ever end.

But then, this had happened.

_Have you ever stepped out of the light_

_And realized there's a stranger inside?_

"My Lord, would you like one of us to-" one of the cloaked men began to speak, and Eve noted the swirling etching upon his mask, watching as he gestured to Eve, though he didn't finish with _what_ they were going to do. He stared at her for a lengthy amount of time, before jerking his head to the side, just once. His eyes softened for a moment as he finally knelt next to her, touching Eve's cool face with a gentle hand.

"Eve," he whispered, as if he was going to cry. It would happen, sometimes, whenever he had these strange violent tendencies, for a single moment, he would be his old self again. For a beat, there was silence and then words that sounded like truth spilled from his lips.

"I didn't want this to happen. I knew you were going to leave, sometime, I knew you would have to and I... I didn't - **couldn't** - let you go. You were everything to me, and I - I was going to lose you, eventually. They showed up then," he told her as he jerked his thumb at the two cloaked figures. Eve realized that his voice had drifted down to whisper and he was now so close the others couldn't have possibly heard him speak. "If I knew this would have happened, I would have gladly let you go, but as it was... I don't know what they did, but suddenly, I wasn't myself and when I looked in the mirror all I could think was **Voldemort**." Eve stared at him, recognizing her lover and raised a hand to his face, not sure she wasn't dreaming. But then, everything changed.

_Don't push your ignorance on me_

_I'm not unrehearsed to your jealousy_

His demeanor completely changed, his eyes filled with violence and a smirk that she had never seen was upon his face. He suddenly crushed her lips beneath his, pushing Eve's head into the pavement and drawing out a gasp of protest from her. He quickly pulled away, his eyebrows raised in distaste as he watched Eve try and wriggle out of his reach, fear written all over her face. His arms shot out and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her whole body to him as his face filled with fury. An angry snarl came from his lips as he shook her like a rag-doll.

"I though you loved _me_, yet I grace you with a kiss and it displeases you?" The look on his face darkened considerably, but he continued shaking her with each sentence. "You loved _me_, I saw it, but now that I am truly strong, that I possess all the power in the _world_, you prefer the muggle shell?" Eve was getting dizzy and her breath was hitching in her chest. He had been using words like this recently. Muggle, mudblood, things she had never heard of, didn't understand and then... Then the _wand_ had suddenly appeared in his grasp one day and Eve felt as if she had been thrown into a Brothers Grimm fairy tale. She didn't know what she had done to set him off the first time, one day while she had been lounging on his couch, watching him stare out the window. Yet suddenly, he had whipped around, rage in his every movement and then he had said _that_ word and... Eve found herself shuddering even though he was still shaking her. Disgusted, he suddenly pushed her away from him, standing up straight and tall as the back of her head thudded against the hard pavement. After having seen the real him, beneath whatever enchantment these people had placed, Eve found herself calling out his name in desperation.

_And I know, you don't think I see the signs_

_Well how do you know, do I look blind?_

"**Tom!** Please, Tom, please, come back. I don't know what they've done to you, but -" Eve's pitifully frail voice was cut off as he whirled, screaming in rage and pointing his wand at her once more. She barely had time to close her mouth and lock her jaw before her said it again.

"_**CRUCIO!**_ My name is not TOM!" Eve's body jerked around on the pavement, her head bouncing off the cement while her arms twisted in weird and painful ways. The two people in cloaks said nothing, did nothing, but watch her in her pain. As suddenly as it had come on, it was gone, and Eve was sobbing on the ground, curled in upon her body, trying to get a good breath within her lungs. For an indiscernible amount of time, it was silent save for her sobs. He knelt again, jerking her up into a sitting position, not caring when she cried out in obvious pain.

"My. Name. Is. _Voldemort,_" he hissed, baring his teeth at her, though she could barel y make out his features through the tears in her eyes. "You would do well to learn it. Now, dearest, come, come," and his voice was kind once more as he lifted her to her feet. He slipped a tight and painful arm around her waist so she couldn't fall and tossed his head so his hair wouldn't fall into his eyes. Eve let him drag her along, not even bothering to see where they were going, simply wondering where her Tom, _her_ Tom, had gone and why these people had put this - this _Voldemort_ in his body.

_So take it while you can, so you can meet demands_

_My break down is what you thrive on_

His happiness seemed to grow as she began crying, pleading with him to return to his true self, to go back to normal, though Eve never let slip his real name. The two people in cloaks accompanied them back into a dark, dark alley, where her once-Tom tapped on a brick with his wand and a doorway opened into his lower floor apartment. He pulled her through and let her collapse once more into sobs upon the couch, humming beneath his breath as he moved about the place, gathering things together for her. He grabbed clothes, picking through them all, once in a while glancing in her direction as he considered an item, before placing some in a suitcase and discarding others on the floor. The cloaked people said nothing, though Eve could sense the confusion radiating off of them, especially when he shoved the suitcase into one of their arms.

"B-but, my Lord, surely we're not taking the gir-" The man didn't get to finish saying 'girl' before Voldemort had whirled and pointed his wand at the man's mask. The snide look of disgust was so out of place on his face, that if Eve hadn't been crying, she would have let out a breathy laugh.

"Surely we _are_ taking her. She belongs to _me_ now, Wormtail," he growled. Obviously, the other cloaked man hadn't listened to Voldemort's words.

"But, my Lord, she belonged to the muggle-" Without batting an eyelash, the curse sailed across the room.

"_Crucio_," Voldemort whispered with such coldness that it had the same effect as when he had screamed it into Eve's face. Eve's cries quieted as she watched in horrible fascination, the man's marionette's dance upon the floor. Was that what she had looked like, not a half hour earlier?

_So rip it from my soul, so everyone will know in the end_

_I'm the break, you're the bend_

Eve cringed, like a kicked puppy, when he faced her again, but his eyes were filled with contentment, if not happiness. The man who had just been tortured on the floor, nosily got to his feet and spoke once more.

"My Lord," he coughed and Voldemort turned to him, amusement upon his face and he crossed his arms and tapped his wand upon his elbow.

"I'm getting very tired of all your protesting. But speak, speak about what is so important that you would defy your Lord," he spat at the man cowering in a bow upon the floor. Voldemort settled himself on the couch next to Eve, but didn't seem to notice when she shook slightly, wondering whether she could get away. There was no way she wanted to go where-ever this Voldemort inhabiting Tom's body wanted to take her.

"She is a muggle, my Lord. A **muggle!** We put you in the boy's body, as you asked, and I know you need something of his for... What is to come, to keep the body. But you truly wish to keep his muggle trash?" Voldemort stared at the man, and said nothing for a few moments, his lips pursed as he thought. Finally, he turned to Eve and eyed her for a second, suddenly reaching out to cup her cheek. Eve couldn't help it, she flinched, but anger filled her eyes, which seemed to delight Voldemort.

"Are you simple muggle trash, my dear, Eve? No, I think not. You are a muggle, however..." Eve watched as a familiar expression of Tom's shone through, but it slipped away as he turned his eyes to the man called Wormtail. "Would you consider it wise for me to ever have, say, a witch as strong as Bellatrix, as mine, as this muggle is? Hmm, Wormtail?" The figure hesitated, but finally spoke.

"No, my Lord. I-I do see your reasoning. The muggle will obey you, do as you please and c-cannotfightback." Voldemort laughed suddenly and clapped his hands together once, lightly.

"Yes, Wormtail sees. And, now, my dearest, we are off to Little Hangleton." Eve felt the fear inside her erupt like a volcanoe, and let loose a breathy sob.

_Stranger Inside._

Harry woke, his gasp echoing the muggle woman's sob as his brilliant green eyes flashed open, staring at the ceiling. He sat up in his bed, pressing his hands to the aching scar on his forehead, which burned with a cruel joy. It didn't last too long and when the pain faded, it left Harry gasping once more. Shaking and unstready, he tried to focus on parts of the dream. What had Voldemort siad? Had he had a body? Who was the muggle girl? But it slowly faded away, until Harry only remembered the girls name, Eve. Repeating it like a mantra inside his head, he sleepily glanced at his bedside clock, finding that it was very, very early in the morning. He laid back down, his eyes fluttering closed and hoped that he would remember more of the dream when he woke.

**A/N: **(This has been re-vamped and edited as of 08/2010) This started out just as a songfic for Shinedown's "Stranger Inside", but I've been reading tons of HP fanfiction and somehow, Voldemort just wedged his way into Eve's life before I knew it. It was also originally a one-shot, but after Harry decided to make an appearance, I realized it could be longer. Now, the pairing is Voldemort/OC in the summary, but it's rather complicated, as I'm sure you can see. It'll get even more complicated between Voldemort and Eve in later chapters, seeing as... Well, I'll let you see for yourself. The rating is M now for torture and unspoken threats and other evil things that will happen in later chapters. I would VERY much appreciate some constructive criticism, so review please!


	2. Strange Places

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's wonderful characters, any of the song lyrics I will use or the Harry Potter Universe. Eve and her turned upside down world are mine.

_**Chapter Two : Strange Places**_

The strong wind was freezing cold and would chill any normal person within seconds. Eve was sure that, having had prolonged exposure, she had some type of frost bite. Not that she could bring herself to complain about the discomfort and pain, though she desperately wanted to. She glanced down, and seeing the miles and miles it would take for her to fall to her death, she decided to keep her mouth shut. This was an absolutely horrid experience and Eve wondered whether she was in shock, since she hadn't started screaming after the sights she'd witnessed just in the past day. Tom, or rather, the Lord Voldemort, turned the broom slightly to the West, humming as annoyingly as he had in the apartment they had once shared as normal people. Wormtail, the slightly plump cloaked man, was on their left, flying unsteadily, his hands shaking upon the broom handle. The other, whose name Eve had yet to hear, flew to their right, completely silent. After his earlier torture, and the rude comments he had made about Eve, he seemed to be the epitome of politeness, mostly because he hadn't said a word since. The broom dipped and Eve let loose a strangled scream, and Voldemort responded with mocking laughter. The dry sob that escaped her lips only made him laugh harder and with one hand still holding the broom handle, he used the other to pat her arms, which were tangled about his waist so she wouldn't fall.

"Come now, my dear, flying won't kill you," he told her, his voice turning rough with harshness and his laughter disappearing completely. Eve forced herself to stop her tremors and buried her face into his warm back, hoping that the flight would be over as soon as possible.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Wormtail shuddering and she shared his sentiments, because, for some reason, Voldemort's words had filled her with dread. Surely, after taking all the trouble to stalk her through a quarter of London, to terrorize and kidnap her, he wouldn't just - Eve screamed again when he grabbed her hands and wrenched them apart, chuckling darkly. She locked her knees about the broomstick, trying to grab back onto him, though her frantic movements were shaking the course they were flying. Voldemort pulled forth his wand, murmured softly "_Confundo_," and then... Eve blinked, wondering what she was holding in her hands and let go of the velvety material, her body going limp. Achingly slow, she wavered and then fell off the broom, just as Voldemort pointed his wand at her, a flash hitting her chest. With a start, she realized that he had, essentially, just pushed her off the broom and she was falling. She screamed again, high pitched, piteous and wished beyond all measure that she was back home in America, home with her family and friends. She was falling faster, her body twirling like she was caught inside a sideways tornado. The wind rushing by her threatened to break her arms if she didn't hold them to her body, and it was only her strong will that made her wrap them around herself. The wind was ripping the breath from Eve's lungs so she could no longer scream and, praying, Eve closed her eyes, her lips trembling with fear and then hit something solid.

"Flying won't kill you, but _falling_ will," Voldemort hissed in her ear as he settled her in front of him upon the broomstick. She didn't move more than necessary, letting him adjust her as he saw fit, so as to keep her safe. _Safe_, she could almost scoff the word. There was no way she could ever be safe with him, not here and not anymore.

It simply wasn't fair, Eve wanted to cry. She had found the perfect man, someone she had truly felt that she loved. He was kind and hopelessly devoted to her, had showed her that many men were indeed considerate of a woman's happiness. He was intelligent and he'd had high hopes of one day being an actor. He was incredibly attractive, with his unique features and soft, sweet British accent. But then, Tom had vanished in a wave of smoke because of these people. Voldemort, as she forced herself to think of him now, sighed and nuzzled the side of her face, as if he were content. Eve barely kept herself from jerking away from his flesh, biting her bottom lip hard enough to leave a perfect imprint of teeth. She didn't think he even realized what he was doing, seeing as his whole being seemed focused on what lay ahead of them.

"My Lord, we are fast approaching Little Hangleton," the mysterious man told him, who had yet to reveal his name. Voldemort's body tensed against Eve, and looking down, she saw that his knuckles were incredibly white as he clutched the broomstick with all of his strength. A tremor ran through his body, and it was as if Eve could sense that he was angry. His anger filled Eve with a sense of forboding, though she was relieved that this time, the anger was not directed at her. Letting loose a slow breath, Voldemort spoke.

"Ah, home at last. What do you think of it, my darling, Eve?" His lips were close to her ear, as if they were sharing an intimate secret, though he had to speak loudly for her to hear over the wind. Eve could hear the hint of scorn in his voice as he said 'darling' and she wondered why he insisted on using the word if it so displeased him. Stiffening as he shifted, his dark curls tickling her cheek, Eve's lips parted as she thought quickly. What on earth could he want her to say to him? What would keep her in his good graces for the time being? Her eyes roamed over the manor house they seemed to be heading towards. It would have been beautiful, had it not been for the boarded up windows, missing shingles and overall lack of being well cared for. Still looking down, Eve saw Voldemort's knuckles whiten and she rushed to speak, as if he were threatening to strike her.

"I-it's very l-lovely," she told him hoarsely and let loose a breath she hadn't realized she was holding when his body relaxed against her. The cold wind slowed and finally died to a trickle as the three men landed their brooms in the front yard. Eve found that her legs, stiff with coldness, would barely move. She took two steps away from them and found her knees buckling. Shaking, she fell to the ground, relishing in the feel of grass under her fingers. Taking a deep breath, Eve tried to push herself up, but without a word or warning, Voldemort grabbed her arm as he was passing, dragging her along with him. Eve's curses were so soft he chose to ignore them, but anger rose in her as he refused to let her attempt to get to her feet once more.

He tapped on the bricks of the wall, like he'd done with the apartment wall, and jerked on her arm as he walked inside. Eve tried to get her balance, but he dragged her inside behind him. He didn't seem to care that she was hindering him, falling, stumbling and bruising her knees as he tugged her up the stairs. One of her shins caught a loose splinter and blood pooled in her cheeks as Eve stumbled through the dusty house, silently angry. Voldemort simply yanked her up whenever she fell too far and once they reached the top floor, and what was obviously a sitting room, he threw her onto an old, dust covered couch. Eve coughed as the dust rose in a cloud, sneezing a few times in a row, but was grateful that she had been allowed to sit. The men in cloaks had followed them closely, but they hadn't bothered with closing the sitting room door and she noted that neither had even moved towards any of the chairs or the couch.

"Bertha Jorkins is taken care of?" Voldemort questioned, business-like as he glanced at himself in a mirror hanging on the wall. As if pre-occupied with his appearance, he touched his wand to the clothes, muttering things beneath his breath. Eve had barely blinked before his clothes had changed from a modern, male-model style to something similar to what the other two men wore. Voldemort still wore the white collared shirt and black slacks, but the green suit jacket was gone, replaced with dark forest green robes. He admired himself in the mirror, his dark eyebrows arching as he waited for his servants to speak. Eve felt her heartbeat skip as she realized what he had said. Bertha Jorkins? Taken care of? What was he trying to-

"Y-yes, my Lord. After you were finished, I disposed of her. No one will notice her disappearance for some time y-yet," Wormtail stuttered, wringing his hands together in a nervous habit-like way. Finished with her? Before Eve could think to even try and stop herself, she had risen to her feet, though shakily, and was speaking.

"Bertha Jorkins? Disappearance? Tom have you - have you kil-" Voldemort whirled, and he was suddenly in front of Eve, his wand pressed to her throat. The snarl that came from him startled Eve into silence, though her trembling lips betrayed her fear.

"I have warned you once. Do NOT address me by that muggle name!" Eve was so tired, and had been scared for so long, she wondered if the shock was beginning to wear off. She wondered whether she was going insane, since even when Voldemort had removed his wand, she spoke again, her voice heated with anger.

"You killed someone! How could you? W-when-" Eve hesitated, realizing something. A week or so ago, before he had turned on her and _tortured_ her with that - that spell, he had disappeared for three days. She had gone crazy, trying to contact him, constantly calling him on his cell phone. He had never answered. Then, miraculously, after she had believed him dead and was ready to call the bobbies, he had showed back up at the apartment, saying he had onyl had business to take care of, it had been nothing to worry about. " It was when you were gone. You l-left me so you could kill somebody?" Eve tripped over the words, her lips quivering and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. She didn't know why she was so disturbed by it, after what she had witnessed, after what she had _experienced_ over the past few days, but...

"Oh, my darling, Eve. You will become used to all of this. Now, do as I say and be _silent! Silencio,_" he murmured, casually flicking his wand in her direction as she opened her mouth once more. "Wormtail, go furnish a room for Eve," he called over his shoulder as he stared at Eve. Wormtail hurried out of the room, with much simpering and bowing. Inside, Eve was both despairing and yet filled with fury. Whoever was inhabiting her lover's body was treating her like some child's toy, a doll, to be tossed around and moved to his pleasure. He had brought her here against her will, he had packed the clothes that he preferred upon her, was performing these spells on her, taking away her will... Silent tears finally rolled down her cheeks as she shot Voldemort an icy glare.

The other cloaked man was standing in the corner, as silent as she was, and Eve couldn't help but extend her feeling of ill-will towards him. He had said something about keeping a possession of Tom's, so they could - could what? Eve finally threw herself against the back of the couch, silently coughing as the dust rose up around her. Voldemort had begun to turn away, but her movement drew back his attention. While the correct word for his expression seemed to be _smiling_, Eve didn't believe you could smile and still appear frightening. His eyes, not reached by the expression upon his lips, were cold as he walked towards her. Eve, fearing his actions, huddled against the back of the couch, her eyes growing impossibly wide. This seemed to throw him for a moment and he stopped, all expression sliding off of his face. Slowly, he approached her again and reached out a hand, as if to cup her cheek. He stopped before his fingers made contact with her skin and hovered like that, incredibly close. He could see the shudders wracking her body, could almost smell the fear radiating off of her, but he didn't immediately comment upon it. Voldemort didn't sit and Eve wondered if it was because the couch was too dusty and dirty for him, it almost made her want to sneer.

"Why do you fear, Eve? You are the only muggle who has no reason to fear death by my hand. This body _needs_ you and therefore, so do I," a smile stole over his face again, as if his revelation should have given Eve joy. There was a hint of surprise upon his face as he heard Wormtail, but he didn't jump like Eve.

"M-my Lord, the Lady's room is ready.

For a moment, Voldemort seemed to mull over the phrasing, before focusing his attention upon her face, a smirking smile lightening his features as he forgot about her fear. Eve wondered if he truly had, for this person, this _creature_ seemed like he was in the throes of madness. One moment he was - while never kind, he wasn't completely cruel and the next he was torturing and screaming in a fit. Hugging her arms about her thin body, Eve closed her eyes as Voldemort's fingers just barely touched the hair that lay against her brow.

"Yes, Lady Eve sounds rather musical, doesn't it? Take her to her room Wormtail, and hurry back, we have much to discuss." Eve didn't much want to leave, she wanted to know what was happening around her, but at the same time she was relieved to be out of Voldemort's grasp, if even for a little while. Voldemort hadn't taken the spell off of her, so Eve still couldn't speak, but she nodded her head to Wormtail when he held out his gnarled hand. He, out of three, at least hadn't suggested that she was lower than filth. Wormtail muttered beneath his breathed as he led her to what was obviously a woman's room, only two doorways from the large sitting room Voldemort had settled himself in.

"Here is your room, Lady Eve. E-everything I hope is to your expectations?" Eve blinked in response to his stuttering. She had thought the only reason he had stuttered was because of fear of Voldemort, but now she wondered whether it was truly a habit he had yet to break. Eve quickly glanced around the room and was reminded of a rather feminine, expensive, hotel suite. It held a nice vanity, a beautiful fireplace, which held a hot fire and large bay windows. She blinked in surprise and slowly nodded her head, giving him a small smile, though she had yet to see his face. She didn't think that she would ever gain the friendship of Wormtail, but there was no harm in being polite to someone who hadn't tortured her, was there? Eve had the feeling that Wormtail didn't have it in him to be outright cruel.

"Well then, y-yes. If you require anything else, I will get it for you, my Lady." Wormtail bowed, saw her nod her head and then scurried out of the room, reminding Eve of a rodent. The door closed with a soft thunk beside her and Eve eyed the bed with an exhausted eye. She could almost feel the soft blankets and the welcome reprieve of sleep... But then it hit her. She was **alone**. She could escape! Eve didn't know how far she could, or would get, or if Voldemort would try and join her in the room. Though for some reason, Eve doubted it. Not only was the room outright girly, with pink hints in everything, she doubted Voldemort trusted anyone to be in the room where he slept. Footsteps echoed outside her door, so Eve stayed where she was until they drifted away. She wondered whether Voldemort had told Wormtail to guard her room, to make sure she couldn't escape, though she discarded the thought as soon as it had entered her mind. Voldemort was too confident in whatever was happening. He didn't think Eve would run away from him. And with a pang, Eve realized that something inside her was telling her to stay, that she truly didn't want to run away.

Not because of any perverse desire to stay with someone who tortured her, but because of the memories, of Tom. Shaking slightly, Eve walked over to the stool in front of the vanity and slowly lowered herself onto it, staring at herself in the mirror with what light the fire gave her. She _could_ get away, she was sure of that. Eve figured that she would probably be captured again, but she would have the chance to get away. There was always a chance. But what of Tom? Tom, whom she had fallen in love with, this summer and whom was now buried beneath this cruel persona? Eve sighed and buried her face in her hands, her eyelids slowly sliding shut. She was so, so tired. Maybe a few minutes rest wouldn't hurt her. Blinking rapidly, Eve stumbled over to the bed and laid down, not even bothering to pull the blankets over herself. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

* * *

When Harry woke the next morning, it was still early, but acceptable enough to get up and greet the day as any normal man - or wizard - would. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then blindly reached out for his night table, patting around for his glasses. Thankfully it didn't take him too long to find them, and once he had settled them upon his face and blinked a few times... Part of the dream flew back into his head. Harry couldn't recall everything, but there had been a muggle girl - and, well, not exactly a _girl_, since Harry was quite sure that she must have been at least five or six years older than himself. A young muggle woman then. He remembered that her name was Eve, and that she had been running from Wizards and that - that... Voldemort was involved. Shaking his head to try and clear the hazy images in his head, Harry stumbled to his feet and then to his desk, poking around for spare parchment and quill, deciding on whether or not he should write to any of his friends, or even to Dumbledore. For a few moments, this stopped the teenage wizard, who frowned and plopped back down on his bed. The Dursleys, of course, didn't would ignore his words of fright about a dream and a painful scar.

And Harry wasn't even sure he _could_ reach Dumbledore, while his other friends... Hermione would definitely say something about going to the HeadMaster of Hogwarts, or even to the Ministry of Magic. Especially because a muggle woman was involved. But what would they say? Dumbledore might possibly believe him, but the Ministry?

Harry rubbed his face again and finally shook his head. After a moment or more so of thinking, he did pull out the parchment and quill, though not to write a letter. He would write down everything that he remembered of the dream and if something ever came up about it, he could tell Ron and Hermione without forgetting any details. As he wrote, Harry wondered what use Voldemort could possibly have for a muggle girl. Voldemort hated muggles and muggle-borns, he usually spared no thought for them, unless he meant to kill them. But in the dream...

In the dream, Voldemort hadn't been going after the girl to kill her, Harry was sure of that. He had wanted her for something, and if he did have her death planned, it seemed a long time in coming. That was the main reason Harry had refrained from sending off a letter. If he saw anything more about the girl, maybe he would have more of a chance to help her.

* * *

Eve didn't sleep for very long, and was actually thankful for it. Her body was so filled with aches and soreness that few positions had been comfortable. Though she needed to sleep, deeply, sometime soon, she had resolved to try and escape. When she had sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes less than a half hour ago, she had found her suitcase next to the bed. Eve had gone through the clothes Voldemort had picked out for her and almost wanted to cringe. Mostly they were dress clothes, all things she did enjoy wearing when she went out to a club or to a fancy restaurant, but... It seemed as if Voldemort was trying to make her into some sort of arm trophy, even though she was hardly the most beautiful girl he had to have seen. The only comfortable clothes were her pajamas and Eve had been astounded that Voldemort had thought to shove those in the case. She stared at the contents of the suitcase for a few minutes, but finally shook her head. She wouldn't be able to take many clothes, she would have no food with her, had only pocket change and... If Eve got someone else involved, she had the feeling that they would suffer a fate worse that she would. As Voldemort had put it, she was the only muggle who need not fear death by his hand. The sick feeling in her stomach intensified and for a few moments, she pondered the name of Bertha Jorkins.

The poor woman was dead. That much she knew, but Eve wondered whether the woman had been like her, of like Voldemort and his companions. Eve had tried the door handle, just to check out her options and was honestly surprised to find it locked, tightly. There didn't seem to be any opening to pick a lock, and though she rattled it for few minutes, no one came to investigate. This instilled a sense of bravery in Eve as she began to search through the room from a small knapsack, or any type of bag. Anything but the large suitcase that Voldemort had brought for her. It didn't take her long to find a moth-eaten shoulder bag in the bottom of the wardrobe and she held it up to examine it. It would do well enough, holding a few shirts or so. She chose the least flashy of the clothes he had brought, shoved them in the bad and then poked through the rest of wardrobe and dresser. The clothes within them were obviously expensive, and were made for a much older woman, which would make her flashy status all the worse. She left them be and then headed for the window. Eve pulled open the heavy drapes, wary and looked about the large, overgrown backyard. Ivy covered everything, weeds had spring up where flowerbeds had once been and the patio table and chairs were covered with red rust. Over the wrought iron fence, she could see that they were on the top of a hill, quite a ways away from the other houses. Eve's heart sunk in her chest, but she tried to open the window anyway. The frame was painted over, sealing it to the wall, but Eve grabbed a shirt hanger, using the twisted wire to scrape away at the paint. Eve worked at the handle and paint alternately, hoping that Voldemort, Wormtail and his unknown companion were deeply asleep.

Just as Eve was ready to wrench the window open, a tired smile stretching over her face, at the thought of freedom, she heard a loud hissing noise and froze in place. Hesitantly, she turned and quickly scanned the room, but nothing appeared, so she turned back the window and would have screamed, had she been able to use her voice. The spell that had kept her silent was still working, for no sound issued forth from her mouth, though Eve's heart was ricocheting off of her ribcage. A horribly large snake was now out on the windowsill, it's forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. It watched Eve silently and then let forth another hiss, before slithering off the windowsill and disappearing out of sight. Eve was shaking now with fear, because for some reason, she had felt as if she had been caught. Eve pressed her face to the window, not even bothering to try and open it, there was no way she wanted a killer snake in her room. No matter which way she turned, she couldn't see the creature though and finally, filled with paranoia, she tossed her shoulder bag under the bed and laid back down. It seemed as if she had done it just in time, because within moments, she heard footsteps and her door opened, Tom's body walking through. His eyes were all for the window, but when he saw that it wasn't open, he turned and raised his eyebrows, seeing her laying upon the bed.

"Eve," he said softly, with a hint of surprise. Eve stared up at him, but she couldn't say a word, she she didn't try. The room resumed it's silence, until Voldemort decided to sit on the bed beside her. He watched her for a moment, his head tilted in consideration and then the corners of his mouth quirked upward. "Such a smart girl. Nagini will continue the rounds of the house." Eve wondered how she knew that Nagini was the snake. He pursed his lips in though once more and then his hand snaked out, brushed the hair out of her face, though he was careful not to touch her skin. For a moment, his eyes seemed to soften and Eve recognized Tom.

'Oh Tom!' She mouthed the words, forgetting that she couldn't speak. It seemed to break whatever had been happening though, because he stood up, his eyes cold, his face in a sneer.

"Your pathetic, muggle _Tom_ is gone. Waste no time in grieving, Eve, for I am a much better replacement." Voldemort whirled and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. For a split second, Eve stayed where she was, but she couldn't contain herself. She jumped up and rattled the door handle. It was locked once more. In a small rush of fury, Eve slapped her palms against the door and stamped a foot, knowing that Voldemort would hear her. Laughter echoed suddenly out in the hall, but he said nothing else.

Eve was once more left to her own devices in captivity.

**A/N: **I debated about making each chapter a songfic at first, but having re-written this, I feel it stands by itself better without lyrics. Read and review please? (Updated as of 8/18/20100.


	3. Strange Feelings

Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's wonderful characters or world. Any song lyrics used in this fanfiction are property of their respective owners.

_**Chapter Three: Strange Feelings**_

A body has a completely different way of remembering someone, than a mind does. It doesn't matter that their feelings may have changed, that the flicker of affection has rapidly turned to hate. A body will still know their touch, still recall that hint of pleasure when just making the slightest contact. It can be embarrassing, and frightening. Watching Eve lay on the bed, deep in the throes of slumber, brought memories that belonged to the previous owner of the body to the surface of Voldemort's mind.

Though Nagini had reported that the girl had been sleeping for sometime now, he still felt the need to check. When Nagini had first slithered to the window of the large sitting room he had been sitting in with Wormtail, hissing that the muggle girl was trying to escape, Voldemort had felt panic. He wasn't sure how long it had been since panic had filled him to that degree, fourteen years, at the very least. But he had still felt it, and the panic had swiftly turned to anger. Wormtail had been scared into quiet whimpers when he realized that his Master was furious, but Voldemort had ignored him, in favor of moving at a steady pace to Eve's room. He had unlocked the door, on the verge of running to the window, but opening the door revealed that the window was still closed. Voldemort had whirled, found Eve laying on the bed, staring at him with wide eyes that feigned innocence. He couldn't help it, a small smile stole over his face, the remnant of the muggles habits. And Eve may have been a muggle, but the girl was intelligent, or it was possible that somewhere along her line, a witch or wizard had been in her family, leaving her with the barest bit of divination talent.

Hours later, seeing as his body hadn't felt the need to lay down and sleep, he was prowling his filthy fathers old home. He drifted in and out of rooms, silently scoffing at some of the muggle decorations and other things bringing the thought of the orphanage to the forefront of his mind. Eventually the memories of rejection proved to be too much for Voldemort, so he had retreated to Eve's room, curious. She had been asleep, and he had made no move to wake her, which had eventually led to this predicament. Though he controlled the body, was now it's soul, it's mind, vague feelings and memories would assault him at odd times. Watching her there, sprawled across the blankets, her t-shirt twisted around her, the pants low on her hips... Voldemort growled quietly, trying to push _Tom's _feelings of lust away. The muggle feeling wouldn't quite leave though and Voldemort found his eyes returning, again and again, to the expanse of bare skin along her stomach.

He had known that the body had belonged to Eve's lover, but he hadn't thought... Voldemort whirled to the window her was standing near, breathing deeply through his nostrils as he stared out over the grounds. He felt a cruel need to satisfy the body in some way, to possibly go along with the vague thoughts, but he refused to stoop to a muggles level. Still, the thought wouldn't leave, and after trying to ignore it and failing, Voldemort made up his mind. There was no way he would violate her physically, which is what the hints of the body suggested, but mentally? He could find out more about the muggle's body and about Eve. He turned on his heel swiftly and was across the room and sitting on the bed next to Eve in a matter of seconds. Though the body wanted to be gentle, Voldemort growled, grabbed Eve's face and shoulder and yanked her into a sitting position. She hadn't been sleeping as deeply as he thought, for she woke the minute he placed hands upon her, gasping in fright and obviously scared, her gray-blue eyes growing wide, framed by thick, dark brown lashes. For a moment, he found himself distracted, for wasn't she such a pretty thing - Voldemort quickly placed his wand on her throat to stop her from making any noise, since had had removed the _silencio_ spell while she was sleeping.

"Don't worry, _darling_ Eve, this might be a bit unpleasant, but... Well, it won't truly harm you," he told her confidently, when he felt, more than saw, the panic begin to rise in her. Eve didn't make any move to fight him, so Voldemort proceeded, a cruel smile etched onto his face. "_Legilimens_," he muttered, and before he delved into her memories, watched as her headed suddenly jerked, her lips parted, as if in passion - and then it was a blur of memory.

..._She was sitting outside of a small café, obviously by herself, sipping on coffee and reading a book. A dark shadow passed over her face and she looked up, smiling politely at her beloved Tom, though she didn't seem to know him. Tom appeared nervous, biting his bottom lip, his fingers tapping out a rhythm upon the chair-back.  
"Well, hullo, Miss. Uh, I was wondering, if, well, is this seat taken?" Tom gestured to the empty chair he was tapping upon, his eyes watching her face hungrily. A slight smile lit her features and a pretty blush stained her cheeks..._

Voldemort blinked and Eve's hands were shaking, her lips quivering, but she didn't seem strong enough to fight it and she had no witches talent to help her through. Voldemort returned to the memories.

_...Eve had her arms locked around his middle, shaking with fright. She was going to drop to her death if she let go, she was so high up. Eve screamed when the broom dipped, clutching tighter, but not with panic as he pried her arms off of him and then muttered the confusion hex. He watched through her eyes as she fell through the air, everything topsy-turvy, the wind force strong enough to break her arms..._

Tears were now beginning to stream down her face, but Voldemort didn't pay much attention, he only focused harder.

..._Eve was laying in a bed and it was dark, the middle of the night. He couldn't make out the details, only flickers as the two bodies moved into and out of the faint streetlight that shone through the window. Sweet sounds were issuing forth from her mouth, rain pelting the closed window. Heavy breathing, warm giggles and then, something Voldemort had never dreamed he would hear __**anyone**__ say. But it was Eve's voice, saying his old name with passion, with love,_

_"Tom," she whispered, full of feeling and her neck arched, her face suddenly in focus as she had moved into what little light there was. Voldemort could see her face, her eyes fluttering closed and lips red from kissing and just her whispering his name held more weight than the entire world, and could, in fact, move worlds to do her bidding..._

She really was crying now, but the scene between herself and muggle had angered Voldemort. His fingers made indents in the skin on her face and shoulder, where he held her tightly.

_..."I-I think I'm falling in love with you," Tom told her, sitting by her on a wooden park bench. Eve was layered with clothes, the wind cold and biting, but she seemed to forget about her surroundings when he spoke. She only had eyes for the handsome young man who was twisting his hands, afraid of rejection._

_"Oh, Tom! Do you really mean that?" She whispered, her voice raw with emotion. Her whole body had turned to face him and Tom paused in his nervousness, looking up hopefully._

_"Y-yes! I don't know what it is. Everyday I've spent with you - a-and when I'm not with you, you're all I can think about. I-I don't know what I'll do when you leave. Please, Eve, come stay with me," he murmured, suddenly grabbing her hands and pulling then into place against his chest, so she could feel the pounding of his heart. The young woman's mouth opened in astonishment, but Tom hurried on._

_"Please! I only have a limited amount of time with you left. Each day is numbered, like I'm watching a clock tick away the best moments of my life. I want to spend them with you, Eve, before you go back to America. Please, Eve, please!" As he spoke, he had drifted closer, his forehead leaning against hers. Tom's lips barely brushed against Eve's and the joy bursting forth from her was easy to see. He could have just asked for her hand in marriage..._

Voldemort threw her away from him, fury rolling off of him in waves as he got up off of the bed, stomping back to the window. He seethed at the window, wanting to break it, wanting to break **something**, though he refrained. He didn't feel like fixing the damn thing afterward. After a few minutes, he wondered whether or not Eve had passed out, so he turned, his lips thinning, but found her still very much awake. Eve was silent, staring at him, big, fat, pearly tears rolling down her cheeks. She took a breath, preparing to speak and hesitated, but Voldemort didn't say anything to prod her.

"What," and he watched as her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, feeling the muggles lust, even when he was angry. He also noticed the shock on her face, realization that she could speak again. "What was that?" She asked him, breathy, trying to blink away her tears. He didn't really _have_ to answer, he was the Dark Lord, all men bowed to his will... But he could see that she was trying to please him, she wasn't sobbing like a child, but couldn't help the few, quick tears she was now brushing away. The anger left him bereft, and coldness seeped into him. As if unconsciously seeking her warmth, Voldemort found himself sitting back down on the bed beside her. She didn't flinch, didn't edge away from him this time and somewhere deep inside, Voldemort saw it as a small victory.

"Legilimency. It allows one to read someones thoughts, mind, emotions. What say you." And Voldemort found the body shrugging, the lips pursing and he froze inside. Eve suddenly looked how he felt, astonished, her lips parted, eyes searching him for... something, that she failed to see. Voldemort grit his teeth and then looked back at Eve, watching her reaction.

"I assume, sweet Eve, that the gesture was one of your _Tom's_," he hissed, waiting for her answer, though he didn't have to wait long. A single nod of assent and the breath slowly blew out from his lungs, his gaze focusing on the far wall. So, the body now had something akin to schizophrenia. Voldemort was obviously the dominant personality, but Eve's Tom, muggle Tom, was still in there, somewhere. He looked back to the muggle girl, btu she was no long meeting his gaze. She was a small thing, a thin frame and she was rather short, though Voldemort knew she was too old for Hogwarts.

"How old are you, Eve?" Voldemort asked, pulling forth his wand, though at the moment he had no intention of using it upon her. It seemed to be a nervous habit, though no one would ever accuse Voldemort of having one. The wand twirled about between his slim, quick fingers.

"Nineteen, but I'll be twenty in a few months." The answer came quicker than he expected, but then, Voldemort realized, it was something easy. Muggles, Wizards and Witches alike asked it all the time, so surely it hadn't been a question that would bother her. He plucked at the white collared shirt he wore, looking down at the body he now owned and felt himself raising an eyebrow.

"How old is _Tom_?" He sneered, examining his hands. She cringed when he said the name, but he didn't seem to notice.

"He'll be twenty-two not too long from now. On July thirtieth." Eve's voice was rough around the edges and it made Voldemort glance at her, to see whether the tears had begun again, but she wasn't. The pale girl was tense and wide eyed. Then her words finally reached him and Voldemort let loose a hard, almost angry chuckle, flopping back on the bed, his head landing in her lap.

"Of course, of course. No wonder they chose the muggle, no wonder," he hissed, still twirling the wand between his nimble fingers. Eve had frozen, staring down at him and Voldemort glanced up, frowning in apparent annoyance. " Come now, surely your muggle has lain in your lap before, do what is natural," he snapped. Eve hesitated and he was about to give her another bout of verbal abuse, but one of her gentle hands ran through the dark curls that crowned his head. Strangely, he found it relaxing. The lust that the muggle body had been feeling was dulled, replaced by a calm pleasure that had nothing to do with any real reason, save for human contact. Voldemort wondered what little Harry Potter would say, had he seen him laying in a muggle girls lap, pleased by her attention. He was startled by her voice, though he didn't betray himself by tensing or moving. He would have to watch himself more closely, when he was around the muggle girl, he couldn't allow the body to betray him by dropping his guard.

"May - may I ask you something?" Eve questioned, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, glancing away when his gray-green, when _Tom's_ eyes, looked up at her.

"Surely, though I will answer as I see fit," he growled the last bit and even to himself, it sounded slightly childish. Eve found her stomach twisting into knots, but she took a deep breath, still running her hand through his dark curls, the movement calming her somewhat.

"The reason you chose," and here she paused, knowing that it didn't please him when she said the name Tom. "W-when you chose _him_, the reason was his birthday?" The question was honestly more of a statement to his earlier words, but her voice peaked at the end, showing that she was unsure. Voldemort blinked slowly, and inside, a cruel idea bloomed. An idea that would disturb anyone with a hint of empathy. His eyes flickered to her face, for Voldemort knew, without truly knowing, that the girl was kind and empathic. He considered, before he answered, thinking about how best to twist the truth to his side. What he would say would _surely_ unsettle her.

"My dear, _I_ didn't choose him. My followers did. They chose him, though his appearance is uncannily much like my original body." Voldemort considered his past appearance and wondered how there could be a muggle who was nearly his double. The resemblance would be very unsettling to those who knew what he had looked like as Tom Riddle. The muggles hair was much curlier, his eyes that uncommon shade of green-gray, where his own had been a gray so dark they were very nearly black, and the muggle was taller. Otherwise... "His name, was, unfortunately, a mistake," Voldemort hissed, but Eve was entranced with the explanation, so she didn't jump or flinch. "And his birthday _was_ another reason they decided upon him, yet..." And here was the lie. Voldemort's gaze slid up to her own, a wicked smile blossoming upon his lips.

"I agreed with them, because of _you_, my dear." Let the muggle think he was entranced with _her_. Let the girl think she had brought about the demise of her lover, that her pretty face was the reason she was suffering now. As expected, it had caused her to tense, and for less than a second, Voldemort saw the horror on her face, before she quickly wiped it clean. This caused the Dark Lord some degree of surprise, she had not previously been very good at schooling her expression, but Eve had obviously recognized the weakness. Recognized and corrected it, in less than a day or so. The smile stayed plastered upon his face. Yes, he would enjoy stringing along the poor girl.

"Oh, I see," she murmured, and resumed tangling her fingers about in the dark brown curls, for the revelation had momentarily startled her into stillness. Voldemort let out a breath and closed his eyes, the need to sleep suddenly pressing down upon his body. It wouldn't be safe to sleep in the same room with Eve, for he had no doubt that she wouldn't hesitate if she thought she could escape. He didn't think that the girl would have the audacity to actually _kill_ her muggle boyfriends body, but she could take his wand and well... He might do something he would later regret. Eve was pretty enough, but she would infinitely useful at the end of the Hogwarts school year. After that, if she ceased to amuse him, he would have no reason not to throw the little muggle away.

"Do you?" It wasn't really a question and he wasn't surprised when she didn't answer. Eve was learning how to act around him, that much he had noticed. Her lips trembled suddenly, though she hadn't ceased with the calming strokes through his hair, and no tears had appeared in her eyes, so Voldemort didn't vocally question her. He examined her face, raising his eyebrows in silent query. Eves eyes closed and her mouth began moving rapidly, as if she were saying something, though no sound poured forth from her lips. Voldemort glanced at his wand, but he had never said _silencio_, out loud or unspoken, so it wasn't because of him.  
"What _are_ you doing?" He found himself asking her before he could think about what he was saying. Eve paused, her eyes fluttering open and then gave him an empty smile. His question had made her tense and Eve just barely kept herself from frowning.

"Well, I-I'm singing to myself. I just, well, I figure you'd prefer me to be calm and thinking about songs makes me feel normal. I can be calm and not... Not bother you, overmuch." Voldemort turned his head away from her, his ear and cheek pressing against her thigh. He could feel her pulse against his face and while all she was doing was watching him, her heart was beating erratically. Voldermort wondered whether it was because he had made her suffer through her memories, or whether it was because her beloved body was so close to her, like when - Voldemort closed his eyes, angering sweeping through him and he slowly sat up. Eve's warmth drained away, like he'd been plunged into a pool of ice water. Eve looked confused, but the Dark Lord had no reason to explain himself. He smoothed his hair and straightened his robes, all business, and swept out of the room, locking the door behind him.

Eve stared after him, her mouth agape in astonishment, wondering what she had done. She wasn't sure what had even been going on in the first place. From her cruel awakening and the odd spell he had used, to make her memories flash before her - and his- eyes, to Voldemort laying with his head in her lap, enjoying her quiet touch. She had noticed that the contact she was having with him had seemed to bring out Tom's quirks. The shrugging and 'what say you' were things that Tom said habitually, whenever he was referring to something. The small smile that would tug at the corners of his mouth as she ran her hand through his hair. They were things that were simply Tom, which led her, once more, to believe that Tom wasn't truly gone. She sighed and pulled the blankets over herself, curling back into the bed. Eve wasn't sure what time it was, early morning now, maybe around five and if that was the case she had gotten another three hours sleep before Voldemort had so rudely woken her. Despite the fact that she was in what could be called a 'hostage' situation, she was still horribly tired. Crying always exhausted her and she had been constantly on the go the past few days. Hazily, she tried to focus on what little tidbits of information Voldemort had given her, but they all drifted away into darkness.

Voldemort was pacing in the sitting room of the manor, his jaw quivering with anger, hands clenched into fists at his sides. That god _damn_ muggle girl was bringing out the true inhabitant of his new body and Voldemort was finding it harder and harder now to resist letting the muggle touch her as he so desperately wanted. It had happened when they had finally caught her in London, something had made him tense and then black out. At the time, he had thought nothing of it. He had been standing over her, watching her writhe in pain and then he was suddenly kneeling next to her body, so close to her face. Wondering whether she would respond to him as she had to the muggle, he had kissed her, but it had only made Eve burst into tears and himself angry. Why should even stoop so low as to touch a _muggle_? He wished he could speed up his plans, that he could by pass all of them even, and kidnap the boy so he could get it all over with and get rid of Eve. The sooner he did, the better off he would be. Wormtail was silent, standing near the fireplace, his rat-like teeth peeking over the edge of his bottom lip. He would alternately watch Vodlemort pace and stare at the floor, but he said nothing, so Voldemort let him stay where he was. The other death-eater had gone, putting some of the final touches on what would happen two days from now at the Quidditch World Cup. Voldemort suddenly stopped, barely keeping himself from stumbling. It would have been a disaster, showing such weakness in front of someone like _Wormtail_. His gray-green eyes lit up, as close to a genuine smile as he could make, passing over his features before it quickly vanished to the sound of Wormtail whimpering. Voldemort glared at the man and then plopped down on a velvet cushioned and high-backed chair.

"Mm, Wormtail?" Voldemort snarled, one leg hanging boyishly off of the arm rest of the chair. Wormtail stumbled closer, shaking and fell to his knees once he reached the chair, kissing the hem of Voldemort's forest green robes.

"Y-yes, my Lord?" Wormtail mumbled, his watery eyes refusing to meet those of his Masters.

"How long do you think it has been since I last enjoyed a Quidditch match?" Voldemort had once more pulled forth his wand, twirling it between his thumb and index finger, a beautific smile upon the face of a stolen body. Wormtail, confused, looked up once for a single moment, but then his eyes drifted right back to the floor.

"My Lord?" Wormtail phrased it as a question, and Voldemort wanted to laugh. Of course, Wormtail had no idea what he was talking about.

"Never mind, Wormtail. You will be... _Watching_ the manor and Nagini for a day or so. My Lady and I will not be gone overly long. Yet if I return and find... Something that displeases me, surely you know what would happen?" Voldemort's voice took on a slightly growl, his body sitting up and leaning down towards Wormtail's face. Wormtail's fear was heavy enough to taste, but the rat-like man nodded his head in assent, squeaking in terror.

"Yes, yes, my Lord! I will take care of everything, not a s-single thing will be out of place. Oh thank you, thank you, I will do my utmost to please you, I-" Wormtail would have gone on groveling for hours, but it disgusted the Dark Lord and he sniffed, leaning back in the plush, velvet chair.

"I see that the thought of pleasing me is much more acceptable to you now that I have this body, isn't in Wormtail?" Voldemort examined his wand, as if the question didn't matter in the slightest, but Wormtail's voice became higher in pitch with his fear.

"No, my Lord! I mean, yes - I mean, pleasing you is always at the forefront of my thoughts, my Lord! I never-" The Dark Lord cut him off once more, anger over the incident with Eve spilling over onto his current actions.

"You couldn't wait until you no longer had to nurse me back to health, as it was I had barely regained any of my previous strength under your fumbling attentions. Now go, Wormtail, walk the grounds, search the other rooms, but get out of my sight!" Voldemort's voice had raised and Wormtail had squeaked in response and gotten out of the room, as politely as he could manage. The Dark Lord sighed, pursing his lips as he stared at the closed door. Pettigrew had been useful when it had come to the Potters, had been instrumental in getting this body and kidnapping Bertha Jorkins, and he would be useful still. Yet he was a bore and an idiot. Though Eve was a muggle, had angered him, she was still preferable to Wormtail. She could string together an intelligent sentence and didn't want to slobber over the bottom of his robes. For now, that should be enough to keep him entertained. Voldemort settled back into his chair and closed his eyes, flicking a locking spell at the door. He ran a hand through the dark curls upon his head and then crossed his arms over his chest, his wand tucked into the sleeve of his robe for easy access. The emptiness of the room was a reprieve from Wormtail's constant scraping and muttering.

Stifling a very human yawn, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, rested his head back into the thick velvet and tried to sleep.

* * *

Having narrowly escaped the attention of Mrs. Weasley, in light of Fred and George giving Dudley a Ton-Tongue Toffee, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny nearly ran up the stairs towards Ron's room. Harry adjusted his glasses and brushed some of his length hair out of his face, looking back down the stairs behind them. His eyebrows drew together as he turned back, hurrying to catch up with his friends.

"What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry questioned and for some reason, wasn't surprised when Hermione's eyes narrowed, her whole expression darkening. The two Weasley children, however, exchanged merry glances, before explaining what had been happening with Fred and George over the summer, tromping up the stairs. Once the discussion of the joke products was finished with, Hermione smiled politely at Harry.

"Did you get all of our letters and food parcels this summer?" Harry nodded and thanked them, but then his words faltered, his thoughts drifting to the muggle girl, Eve. Hermione had immediately noticed the lull. "Harry, what's wrong?" She questioned, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. Harry opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips and then sighed. He had dreamed about the muggle again the night before, seen her in a dark house, trying to escape from a magically locked room. Mustering his courage, Harry decided to tell his friends.

"Not too long ago, I had a strange dream. It was about- about this muggle, named Eve. She looked like she was older than us, maybe even a year or so older than Percy and... Well, there didn't seem to be anything unique about her. She was fairly pretty I suppose, but nothing special-" Ron interrupted his friend, laughing softly and grinning.

"So you have a crush on a muggle then?" Hermione hit the red head on the arm, rolling her eyes and letting out an exasperated scoff.

"Go on, Harry," she prompted, brushing some of her bushy hair away from her face. Harry gave them a small smile and then continued.

"No crush, I've never seen this girl in real life," Harry barely noticed that tenseness had left Ginny. "But anyway, no. She was running through London in the dream, trying to escape wizards. And - they didn't seem like nice wizards. I actually think they were using the Dark Arts on her. She ran into, into a man I think, in front of this dance place... Well, I can't remember what the man looks like or who he is, but somehow, I just know that wizards chasing after her were with Voldemort. They kept using dark magic on her and she would scream and cry and I think... Well I think it was some form of torture." Ron looked faintly interested about the dream, but Hermione looked positively shocked.

"They were torturing a muggle?" She shrieked, her voice raising a few octaves and her dark brown eyes wide with astonishment. She suddenly jumped up, as if remembering something and ran over to grab the Daily Prophet, laying on Ron's beside table. "And you said her name was Eve? Harry, look at this!" Hermione shoved the paper under his nose. He blinked rapidly, pulling it out of her hands and away from his face so he could read it. There was large picture of an Auror on the front, examining a muggle apartment wall, which looked like someone might have blasted a hole in it and yet... There were no bricks or debris anywhere in the alley or inside the apartment. It was as if someone had picked up all the bricks and carried them away, or... Harry suddenly noticed. The bricks had been rearranged, much like the archway that appeared to get into Diagon Alley. A wizard had done something then. That was when Harry read the headline of the paper.

**MUGGLE COUPLE MISSING - REMNANTS OF DARK MAGIC FOUND**

A sinking feeling filled Harry's stomach, but he plowed on and read aloud:

" 'In London, Friday evening, near a muggle dance club called _Astronomics_, a young wizard reported hearing screams and people casting curses, outside on the muggle street. Our source alerted the local Aurors and then stated that he followed the noise.

'I saw two wizards, dressed up in dark robes, completely masked and cloaked, couldn't tell them from the shadows, and a muggle couple. Man and woman, couldn't have been more than twenty or so. I had just come upon them torturing the girl, poor thing, poor thing.' Our source tells us he didn't follow them further, afraid of whether they would catch him before he could show the Aurors. The Aurors arrived on the scene not too long after the group disappeared into a muggle alleyway. Our source says he heard the wizards leaving, but hadn't been able to tell which direction they had gone, only that they had flown. The Aurors examined the crime scene, home to a muggle man named Tom Raimus, age 21 and his American girlfriend, Eve Swarthing, age 19. The description our source gave of the muggle girl matches that of young Swarthing, but was unsure about Tom Raimus. 'Couldn't tell with him. He was standing, never saw a word that I saw. Though he was in league with the wizards at first, but couldn't have been, couldn't have.'

Recent evidence of the Dark Arts was found in the muggles apartment, most likely confirming our sources report of Swarthing being tortured. The muggle Prime Minister has been alerted to the disappearance of the young couple, though the Minister couldn't comment on whether or not there would be reason for the couple to have been involved with the wizarding community. Many of Swarthing's clothing was taken, others were strewn about the home, but nothing else had been touched. A search has been set up for the muggle couple, but as of yet, nothing has been found.' " Harry finished reading and then glanced at a still picture, farther down the page. It was of a happy couple, a young man and woman, whom he assumed were Tom Raimus and Eve Swarthing. For a moment he could do nothing but stare at them, for this Eve Swarthing was _indeed_ the one he had seen in his dream. Yet, there had been nothing about her boyfriend. Harry finally turned his eyes away from the cheerful face of Eve Swarthing to look at her boyfriend and felt a sudden chill creep down his spine. In his second year, he had battled Tom Riddle, whom had sprung forth from an old diary. This man, this Tom Raimus, looked _very_ much like Tom Riddle. Older surely, seeing as Riddle from the diary had been sixteen and this muggle was twenty-one. He looked taller, a bit thinner, liked he had just lost all of his baby fat, but he could have been Tom Riddle's brother. Looking closely at the picture, holding it up to his face, Harry could see that this Raimus had curly dark hair, just a tad longer than Riddle's. A shudder ran through him, he couldn't help it.

"This _is_ the Eve from my dream," Harry stated first, and then, delaying Hermione's urge to speak, he held up a hand. Harry suddenly wondered if Ginny had ever looked closely at the newspaper. "But this, this man, Tom Raimus, her boyfriend... He looks, well, he looks an awful lot like Tom Riddle when... When we saw him." Harry directed the last to Ginny. The young redheaded girl blinked and then the color drained from her race as she leaned close to see the picture. Her gasp confirmed it and both Hermione and Ron jumped forward to see it as well. Harry relinquished the newspaper without a fight.

"Do - do you think it's him, Harry?" Ginny asked, her face curiously blank, though they could all sense the hint of fear beneath. Harry almost said yes, but he glanced at the picture again, at Raimus' smiling face and the way he was holding Eve.

"No," he told her firmly, gently touching her shoulder. "No, Ginny. Riddle-Voldemort, hates muggles. If that was him, I really doubt he would even touch her, much less look at her, and..." Harry gestured at the picture, to emphasize the oddness that it would be if Voldemort had been pretending to be a muggle, going along with a farce and even dating a muggle girl. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Mrs. Weasley's voice ran from downstairs, calling for them all.

"You guys, don't - don't mention this to anyone yet, alright? I just have, I have this feeling about it. I have this feeling that something will happen to the girl, to Eve, unless we keep quiet for now." Though Hermione obviously wanted to disagree, Molly Weasley called for them again. She nodded her head in assent.

"Alright, Harry. For now." And the teenagers tromped back down the stairs, distracting Percy from his work as Molly Weasley screamed at her twin sons.

**A/N:** Alrighty! Chapter three re-written. And just so everyone knows, I'm using both the book and movie to go off of, where it suits me. Seeing as, in the book, Harry wasn't yet at the Burrow when he dreamed of Voldemort in the Riddle Manor. Tell me if you think I'm keeping them to canon, though I know Voldemort isn't completely canon, I'm trying to keep him along the line of it.


	4. Strange Sights

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's wonderful characters or world, and any of the song lyrics, those used in this fanfiction are property of their respective artists. Eve, the idea of Tom Raimus and her turned upside down world view, are my own.

_**Chapter Four : Strange Sights**_

The night before the Quidditch World Cup, tucked securely in a bed on the opposite side of Ron's room, Harry dreamed once more. He tossed and turned, grumbling beneath his breath, and once in a while, stiffening up with fear. But no matter how much he moved around, how much he wanted to escape the dream, he was forced to watch.

_He could hear voices, echoing down the long rickety, staircase. One of them he recognized as Peter Pettigrew, or rather Wormtail, while the other was younger, more pleasant sounding, though it held a degree of coldness that filled Harry with dread. He took a step towards the stairs and then jumped when he noticed the little old man beside him. The man was stooped over, his eyebrows drawn together, gently touching the railing that lined the stairs. Harry opened his mouth, ready to speak to him, but the old man moved ahead, taking slow, halting steps as he moved up the stairs. Harry, setting his mouth in a grim line, moved behind him, trying to focus on the voices that were coming from the open crack in the door at the top of the staircase. _

_"..I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform," the younger, pleasant sounding voice was saying. Harry once more glanced at the old man and seeing the confusion upon his face, decided that he must be a muggle. They were at the top step now, the voices now incredibly clear and every once in a while, in between Wormtail and the pleasant voice speaking, Harry could hear the sounds of a young woman sniffling, as if she were trying to stop crying._

_"R-really, my Lord? What-? Wormtail sounded terrified as low chuckling answered him. Harry felt a cold dread settle in his chest, because there was only one person Wormtail would ever call 'My Lord'. The old man, his wrinkled face frowning, like a dried raisin, had inched closer and closer to the crack in the door, horrible curiosity upon his face._

_"Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end... But I promise you, you will have the honor of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins." There was a small squeak of fear from Wormtail and Harry's mouth went dry. The old man looked startled, the echo of Wormtail's fear in his eyes._

_"You...You are going to...to k-kill me too?" The muggle man's eyes widened impossibly, realizing that not only was Bertha Jorkins __**dead**__, the pleasant voice was very casual about killing others. Harry, who had read about the disappearance of the witch in the Daily Prophet, didn't find it as too much of a surprise, but it made him fear for the muggle. The poor man was definitely in a bad place. Bits of conversation escaped Harry;s notice as he watched the old man take a few steps back, ready to flee, but the next words stopped the muggle._

_"One more murder, my faithful servant at Hogwarts... Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument. But quiet... I think I hear Nagini..." A hissing noise echoed through out the hall and Harry jumped aside, even though the snake couldn't touch him. It was large, possibly as big around as Harry's thighs and at least twelve feet long. The muggle man had frozen, once he spied the snake and Harry seemed to know that the old man was sure the snake would kill him... But Nagini slithered by them, towards the crack in the door and the muggle man's hand quivered on his walking stick._

_"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail." The pleasant voice seemed amused and even in the dream, Harry could feel his scar burning with some sort of sickening joy._

_"I-indeed, my Lord?" Wormtail's high voice shook and the sniffles that had been peppering the conversation now turned into quiet crying. Hearing the cries, the muggle stopped moving and Harry knew that the man was both curious and scared._

_"Indeed, yes. According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say." The quiet cries turned into a gasp, and now a young woman spoke._

_"Oh god, oh god! Leave him be, let him go, please, Tom, please-" A young woman pleaded and Harry could almost see her on her knees, pleading with this person named Tom, but she was silence quickly. A sharp bang and short scream echoed in Harry's ears, a cold weight settling in his stomach. Wormtail was making a low, moaning noise, scared that he would be next._

_"Invite him inside, Wormtail. Were are your manners?" And the voice held relish as the girl began to sob uncontrollably. Harry wasn't surprised when Wormtail threw the door open and then motion the old man inside, his beady, watering eyes staring at the wooden floor. The man with the handsome voice was sitting in an ancient armchair, his long finger, slim hand the only thing visible, since he was turned away from the door, towards the fire. Harry's lips parted in astonishment when he saw the muggle girl, Eve Swarthing, sitting, dirty and disheveled on the floor, shaking with fear, tears streaming down her face. This seemed to surprise the old man and he took a few more steps forward, his eyes flickering between Eve and the armchair. He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the pleasant, cold voice spoke._

_"You heard everything, Muggle?" said the cold voice._

_"You're that girl whose missing! And what's that you're calling me?" The old man's voice was filled with defiance, as if, after seeing the girl who obviously needed help, courage was welling up inside him. Wormtail was looking away, towards the fire, so when the old man held out a shaking, gnarled hand to Eve, Wormtail didn't see, or at least, pretended not to. _

_"I am calling you a Muggle," said the voice coolly. "It means that you are not a wizard. And yes, I see you have recognized my darling, Eve." _

_"I don't know what you mean by wizard," said the old man. "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. And seen it too, with the kidnapped American girl sitting scared in this parlor! You've done murder, and you're planning more! And I'll tell you this too," his voice was steady, beckoning for Eve to hurry and grab his hand, as if it would help her. "My wife knows I'm up here and if I don't come back-" _

_"Get out of here, hurry, RUN!" Eve suddenly screamed, raising to her knees. There was a quiet sigh, barely loud enough to hear and then a wand was pointed at Eve._

_"__**Crucio!**__" The old man watched in fascinated horror as Eve's body fell to the ground, twitching, and a long, keening wail passed through her lips. Her hands clenched and unclenched, and her head bounced off of the floor numerous times, her eyes screwed shut. The cold voice spoke while Eve writhed on the floor, obviously in pain._

_"You have no wife, nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for he knows... He always knows..." The voice trailed off and the wand flicked upwards, Eve's back arching as if someone were trying to break her in half._

_"Stop it, stop it! Leave the poor thing alone!" The old man yelled, realizing that Eve was, in essence, being tortured. "Lord is it? Won't be Lord as soon as the police have you, now turn around and face a man instead of hurting a poor girl!" The old man's face was filled with anger and he brandished his cane as a shadowy figure stood from out of the chair. The wand twitched, in a short, cutting motion and Eve fell to the floor, panting, her eyes watching the old man with a pain-filled gaze._

_"But I am not a man, Muggle. I am much, much more than a man. However - why not? I will face you." Harry could no longer see the figure that had stood from the chair, only Eve, trying desperately to push herself off of the floor, as if she could try and help the old man. Wormtail whimpered in the corner and the old man, seeing the figure clearly, gaped, his cane lowering._

_"But you're-" Eve's screams echoed through out the room and a flash of green light temporarily blinded Harry..._

Harry was jolted awake by Hermione shaking him, and his rasping breath made the young witch pause. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry shook his head, jittery and spied the old copy of the Daily Prophet next to him on the floor. He snatched it up and pointed to the smiling face of Eve Swarthing.

"She's with Wormtail, and I think... I think with Voldemort." Harry's scar tingled again, and slapping his hand to his forehead, he knew with dreadful certainty that the old muggle man was dead.

Voldemort watched silently as Wormtail levitated the old man's body and guided it out of the room, then, with a sigh, turned to face Eve. She was laying on the floor, alternately gasping and letting out soft moans, her arms wrapped around her abdomen, shaking with fear and pain. His body wanted to fall to the ground and pull her into it's arms, but he resisted, cursing the fact that it was getting harder and harder to do so. He almost wished he could by-pass his plans, that he could forget about Harry Potter and kidnap some random wizard, but then, all of this would have been for nothing. A grimness settling upon his face, Voldemort murmured a spell that would ease the aches the curse had caused her to have, though he doubted it would erase her fear.

"Dear Eve, I _told_ you not to interfere with any of my plans. I _told_ you to stay in your room. I told you a great many things, but did you listen? You tried to run away earlier, you tried to _strike_ me!" Voldemort's voice had risen a few octaves, his anger masking the face that belonged to Tom Raimus. Voldemort grabbed her arm and yanked her into a sitting position, her face a mere inch or two from his own. "I _told_ you that I would punish you, Eve. And that was your true punishment. The old muggle_ died_ for you, did you see? He was ready to stop me. And if you ever, _ever_ try and go against my wishes again..." Voldemort trailed off, his lips pursed, his anger pulsing through his veins. Eve said nothing, staring at him with empty eyes and Voldemort recognized the signs of shock. He let go of her, Eve's body falling back to the floor, her head hitting the floor in front of his feet. If he wanted her to remain sane, Voldemort wouldn't be able to torture her for quite a while. Hearing Wormtail's footsteps, Voldemort turned towards the door and waved his hand at Eve when Wormtail came into sight.

"Take her back to her room. Lock the window, lock the door, bind her. I want no chance of her going anywhere until we are ready to journey tonight. Are we clear, Wormtail?" The beady eyed, rat-like man nodded quickly and hurried off to do the Dark Lords bidding, grabbing an un-resisting Eve by the arm. As if realizing that she was in the hands of someone who meant her no ill-will, Eve's eyes focused on Wormtail and she tried her hardest to get to her feet. Once Eve and Wormtail had reached the door, her eyes nervously caught Voldemort and a shudder went through her.

The moment she was out of sight, Voldemort dropped to his knees, hissing softly, his teeth clenched as he wrestled with the soul inside of him. Tom Raimus was very much alive, locked beneath Voldemort's stronger, magical soul. But the pain Voldermort had been causing Eve had been bringing Raimus back to the surface. It had been making him _feel_ and that wasn't something he could forgive. It had been one of the reasons he had tortured her, a few hours earlier, when she had made her escape attempt. The time he had given her to rest, so he could silence Raimus inside him, had given Eve courage. She had busted open the window, scaled the side of the house in a matter of seconds and was running towards the fence when he had caught sight of her. Rage had burned through him and the body bind spell he had shot at her through the window panes had caused Eve to fall face first into the grass. Striding down the stairs and to the yard outside, Voldemort hadn't been thinking, and so he had removed the body bind the moment he was standing next to her.

Anger and panic had filled him once more, had made him careless as he reached down, expecting her to come along easily, to shudder and cry and obey his whims. But, had she been a witch, Voldemort had no doubt she would have been placed in _Gryffindor_, with her foolish bravery. Eve had jumped to her feet, cocked back her arm and swung at his face. Eve had missed, for she had never actually fought someone, but it had come close enough to cause a coldness to fill him. Voldemort had literally dragged her inside, her feet kicking, trying to yell and scream, though he'd put a silencing spell upon her. She struggled, pull, kept swinging, fury had been evident on her face, but Voldemort hadn't cared. It had been time she learned who was Master. He didn't know how long they were locked into the sitting room, but the whole time, he swore he would make her scream for mercy. Eve never pleaded with him, but with Tom, and once she had begun to truly cry, her words so mixed together he couldn't understand what she said, Voldemort had made her kneel on the floor, like a dog. Wormtail had been let into the room and the two had discussed his plans, seeing as Eve couldn't be trusted in a room by herself. He'd also gloried in her despair, as he spoke of Bertha Jorkins' death. The old muggle had been a piece of luck, and he was glad that he had killed him, glad that it had hurt Eve, made her feel guilty, made her go into shock... But Tom Raimus' soul, kept fettered and chained beneath his own, was filled with terror and anger.

Voldemort smacked a hand against the floor, groaning, and with a flick of the hand that held his wand, he closed and locked the door, so Wormtail couldn't see him in such a state. He clutched his stomach and chest, trying to draw breath and somewhere, deep inside, he heard Tom Raimus' roar of fury. It was in his nature to hurt others, so he didn't hesitate, didn't spare a thought for the fact that _he_ would be hurt, if Tom was.

"Does it anger you, Muggle, that she is mine now? Has your fury filled you to the breaking point? Do you despair that she will be the reason I will own your body in the end?" For a split second, after Voldemort had spoken, there was silence inside him. He had won, he had beat the muggle into submission - a wracking pain flared through his chest and Voldemort howled. The sound would have made any normal persons hair stand on end with fear. The scream echoed through out the house, but as soon as it stopped, things began to shatter. As soon as the pain had left, Voldemort had risen to his feet, blasted the window to pieces, blown up the couch, shattered the old clock and ripped the armchair to thread and splinters. And then, there was silence. Tom Raimus said nothing, did nothing, and it was as if he had never existed. Wormtail had obviously done as he had asked with Eve, but his servant had also dared not move once he heard his Lord destroying the room. His chest heaving, Voldemort walked to the broken window and looked out over the backyard. The sun was just rising, lighting the sky was an orange and pink glow. A gentle wind was blowing through the tall grass, waving the bare tree branches...

He despised it.

Eve was trapped, truly trapped now. The window was magically locked, as was the door. And Wormtail had followed the Dark Lord's orders to a T, though his lips had quivered as he murmured the body bind spell. Through the haze of shock, she realized her mistake had been trying to hit him, but if she _had_ been able to... Eve would have escaped, she was sure of it. She had felt courage, being left alone for so long. The gigantic snake hadn't been anywhere in sight and she had heard Voldemort and Wormtail speaking in low tones when she had pressed her ear to the door. Eve had taken her chance, and she had paid the consequences. A low, strangled noise barely made it past her lips as she thought of the old man. Eve hadn't known him, had never seen him before in her life, but he had tried to save her. She could still see his grizzled face as he had looked between the chair and Wormtail, holding out his wrinkled hand and crooking his fingers. Silently urging her to take his hand, to try and escape while she had the chance. Eve made another noise, wishing she could cry, wishing that she could take it all back. But would Voldemort have spared the man if he hadn't tried to save her? Somewhere inside, Eve knew that Voldemort wouldn't have spared him, no matter what had happened. The old man had overheard them talking about the murder of Bertha Jorkins, had overheard their talk of magic, plans and _Harry Potter_. That was another mistake. After he had used the curse, the one that made her look like she was having a seizure, she had sneeringly asked him about Harry Potter.

It had sent him into a new and completely different rage. It had also made him much more imaginative when it came to hurting her. Eve wanted to grab her thighs, for she could still see the larges slashes that had appeared there, the blood gushing out... Eve wanted to shudder and would have, if she could have moved, thinking about the things he had done. Of course, there had been worse things he could have done, seeing as he was inhabiting Tom's body, though the thought never seem to have occurred to Voldemort and for that she was grateful.

Eve's eyes couldn't move from the ceiling. Her arms were clamped against her sides, her legs together and she was laying on the bed, on top of the blankets. She couldn't move an inch. If she could have drifted off to sleep, that would have been a welcome escape, but she could not do that either, since her eyes were kept open.

Time moved incredibly slowly. The aches that had been plaguing her once Voldemort had used the curse were gone, seeing as he had removed them, but... Eve could still _feel_ the curse, as if it were moving through her blood stream, just waiting to be called to the surface. It was like a dormant sickness, locked away inside, just waiting for the right moment to strike. The sun moved across the sky and shadows eventually entered her room. Eve wondered how long it owuld be until sundown and then the door banged open, slamming against the wall. Voldemort stepped through, tall and proud, smiling Tom's smile. As his eyes raked over her body, he flicked his wand towards her, releasing her from the body-bind. Eve didn't dare move until he told her to.

"Now, now, dearest. Come, get up. We need to make you presentable for the Cup this evening," he said pleasantly. He looked almost happy as he walked towards her, gently touching her elbow as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Eve flinched away from him and though she knew he had seen, he pretended not to notice. Though her mind was still numb and moving at a slow pace, she wondered why.

"Hurry now, pick an appropriate outfit, blue or green will do," he murmured, looking over her pale face and long auburn hair. Eve somehow kept herself still as he plucked at a few strands of hair and then let them slide through his fingers. "Hm... Yes," he said absentmindedly and then walked over to her suitcase, flicking it open with his wand. She flinched when it seemingly opened by itself, watching as he sifted through the clothes magically, not saying a word. After a moment, his frustration showed through and he whirled, and eyebrow raised in impatience.

"Well? You're a woman, I assume you can dress yourself?" Since it was a direct question, Eve answered with a meek 'yes' and stood up, unsteady. She wobbled as she walked towards him, her heart pounding in her chest, screaming for her to run, but she reached the case without mishap and glanced at the things he had looked through. Voldemort walked away, however, he didn't leave the room, as if he were waiting to see what she would wear. Hesitantly, Eve held up a green dress, it's silky material long enough to flow around her ankles. It was something that Tom had bought her after she had admired it in a shop window. When she had protested, saying she wouldn't have anywhere to wear it, Tom had told her he would find a place. The next evening they had taken a waltzing class and the evening after they had gone dancing, Eve wearing the dress her beloved had bought. Voldemort eyed the material for a moment and the nodded.

"Change into it and when you're finished, we must be going," he said the last sharply, as if it were very important that they leave soon, so Eve murmured another quiet 'yes'. He walked out of the room quickly after that and Eve didn't dawdle, not wanting him to find another, or _any_ reason to... To do what he had done earlier. She changed into the garment quickly, wishing she had time to shower, to brush her disheveled hair, to _eat_... With a start, Eve realized it had been at least two days since she had eaten last. When she walked out into the hall, in the dress and the only pair of heels he had put into her suitcase, Eve jumped to find him standing next to her door, though his back was to her. He was leaning upon the railing, looking down at the floor below, though he turned when he heard the door open. Voldemort looked her over and finally seemed to notice her tangled hair, and the dirt on her face and hands.

"These spells are beneath me," he growled, though after he had swished and twirled his wand, Eve felt as if she had stepped out of a shower, her hair was clean, the dirt gone from her hands and face. He glanced over her once again and seemed to recall that it could be cold outside. He stalked back into the room and grabbed one of her coats, muttering something under his breath as he tapped it with his wand. It transformed into a woman's cloak and he shoved it into her hands before walking away. Eve took a deep breath, following behind him, though as far away as she could be without him snapping at her. Eve didn't know if she could deal with this hot and cold attitude, didn't know if she would recognize the signs to stop her words and look away. He was almost schizophrenic after all, this Voldemort.

Wormtail stood at the door, holding it open for them, looking down at the floor. Voldemort muttered a few words to the small man, words that Eve couldn't catch, and frowning, she realized that he was not coming with them. They were leaving alone, just the two of them and it filled Eve with a new sense of fear. She had been tortured when they were alone, worse than ever. Eve had wondered why, when he had dragged her back upstairs, that he hadn't let Wormtail into the room with them and where his other masked companion had gotten off to. Voldemort had thrown her onto the floor, locked the door and - Eve shook her head, she couldn't think about it, not yet.

"G-good evening, my Lady," Wormtail murmured and, glancing at his eyes, Eve spied pity and sorrow. She wondered whether she was heading towards her death and though she knew that Wormtail wouldn't dare help her, when he met her eyes she tried to plead silently. A dry sob escaped her lips as he shook his head, his breath coming in fast gasps as he stepped away from her, motioning for her to follow Voldemort outside. He nearly pushed her into the grass when she didn't step outside immediately and Eve shuddered when the cool evening air wrapped around her body. She looked around, scared of the flight that awaited them, but she couldn't spot any brooms.

"Come now Eve, we must be going," Voldemort snapped at her, holding out his hand. Eve didn't want to touch him anymore than she had to, so she barely placed her hand in his and yelped when he pulled her to him. He frowned, looking down at her and raising a single eyebrow.

"We're apparating," he told her, as if it had been obvious. Eve blinked, confused and then gasped. Everything was dark and some _force_ was pressing against Eve from all sides, she couldn't breathe, as if she had been punched in the chest and her eardrums ached as if they were getting ready to pop. Everything stopped and Eve coughed, pressing a hand to her chest and trying to gain her balance back as Voldemort immediately began walking. They were now in a crowd of people, all of them rushing to get inside a very large, very tall stadium. Eve's jaw dropped, and with a start, she suddenly realized she really should be back at home, in America, with her family and friends... She turned around to go and do just that, but Voldemort hissed and grabbed her arm, muttering an incantation beneath his breath.

"Damn muggle repelling charms," he muttered softly, barely loud enough for Eve to make out as he pulled her along in his arms. Seeing a young, wizarding couple off to the side, talking animatedly, Voldemort made a beeline for them. "_Confundo_," he whispered and then promptly told the couple to give him their tickets. They had seen the Quidditch game, enjoyed it immensely and then gotten so drunk afterwards, that didn't remember who had won. Eve watched with a horrified fascination as the couple handed over their tickets and walked away quickly, down towards a forest and a large field, covered with tents. She said nothing when Voldemort's gaze rested on her once more, a warm smile, Tom's smile, covered his face and he gently patted her cheek... But then he became Voldemort once more.

"If that old Muggle recognized you..." His voice drifted off, his dark eyebrows drawing together as he brushed away a stray curl that simply fell back into his face. He let loose a small sigh, his lips thinning. "This has all been a waste of magic, Eve, I hope you appreciate it." Maybe it was the shock wearing off, the horrid thoughts pushed to the back of her mind by all these strange sights, but she frowned and snapped at him.

"If it's a waste of magic, why use it?" But as soon as Eve closed her mouth, her face drained of color and she stared at him with horror, trying to backtrack. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it! Please, I swear, my-my-" Tears were springing to her eyes and Eve searched desperately for something that she knew would wipe the astonishment off of his face. "I didn't mean it, my Lord! Please, please, forgive me-" He cut her off with a full throaty laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes crinkled around the edges because of his smile. When it drifted into chuckles and he looked back down at her, Eve was straight faced and pale.

"Oh, my dear." The smile stayed etched onto his face and he whispered a spell that made her feel as if someone was molding it, twisting it about like clay... And then it stopped. She didn't ask what happened, though Voldemort could see the curiosity on her face. He shook his head, pulling her along with him.

"It has altered your features, a bit. Someone will look at you and see some non-descript girl, and though they might recognize you, they shouldn't be able to tell who they recognize." They approached the ticket woman, who checked the tickets, told them in which direction to go and then took them away. Voldemort raised his eyebrows, but gave a small smile.

"Well then, we'll be rather close to the Minister himself, won't we?" And with that, they were the through the ticket gates and walking up the stairs, ready to see the Quidditch World Cup.

**A/N: **This chapter ended up quite a bit longer than the original version I wrote and I think I'm pleased with it. I've been bery happy to see all the hits I'm getting on this story, though I would love some reviews, to see how I'm doing. Reviews always help the muse along, ya know!


	5. Strange Games

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's wonderful characters, or any of the song lyrics used in this fanfiction. Eve Swarthing, Tom Raimus and their relationship and view points are my own.

**Stranger Inside**

_**Chapter Five: Strange Games**_

Harry, Hermione and most of the Weasley family were seated in the Minister's box, along with the rather loud Ludo Bagman, the Malfoy family and the Bulgarian Minister, who spoke not a lick of English. They were rather high up, though not completely secluded, since the glass walls of the box allowed the fans seated along either side to wave and point at the people _inside_. Thankfully most people were focused on the Quidditch pitch, oblivious to the people inside the box, except for two. Harry had noticed the House Elf behind him, had spoken to the poor thing who was scared to death of heights, but after getting the feeling that talking to her was only upsetting her... Harry turned back around in his seat and promptly caught sight of a familiar face. He frowned and pushed back some dark hair from his forehead, staring at the place where he had thought... People jumbled about, standing up and sitting down, talking amongst themselves and pointing at the pitch. Then, for a single second, he could have sworn he had seen Eve Swarthing.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed to her, leaning over Ron to whisper to the bushy haired girl. Hermione blinked and frowned as well, leaning down to hear the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Yes, Harry?" She said politely, though it was obvious she was annoyed with his lack of manners. Harry nodded past the Malfoy family, to a couple leaning against the railing, looking rather cosy. Hermione glanced at them, her frown deepening. "Surely you're not saying that you fan-" but the young witch didn't get through with her sentence before Harry let out an exasperated snort.

"_No_, Hermione! You sound like Ron! Look at the-the witch. She rather looks a lot like Eve Swarthing, don't you think?" He whispered, noticing that Draco Malfoy seemed intent upon hearing their conversation. Once more, Hermione turned back to watch the couple, but could only see the back of their heads. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I don't think so, Harry. Really now. The woman is wearing witches robes and seems to be enjoying the festivities. Ms. Swarthing is a muggle!" And though that seemed to be that, with Hermione, Harry could _feel_ that something was amiss with the couple. He kept his eyes trained on them for a few moments before Draco caught his attention. The blond boy raised an eyebrow, a sneer gracing his pale face, before he too glanced to see what Harry had been watching. When Draco caught sight of the couple, he scoffed silently, not wanting to anger his father or embaress his mother.

"_Harry_, watch the pitch! It's going to start!" Hermione suddenly told the young boy as Ludo Bagman walked to the edge of the Minister's box. Harry grumbled beneath his breath, but sat up straighter, resolving to watch the couple more in a bit. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to have recognized someone from the couple as well.

"I'll need to use the-" Before Draco could finish his sentence, his father had cut him off.

"Not _now_, Draco. Surely you won't miss the beginning of the match?" Lucius Malfoy gave his son a mirrored version of his own sneer. It quelled Draco's thoughts and urgency immediately.

"Of course not, father." He murmured, but then turned his attention back to the seemingly laughing and happy couple.

--

The night air was near freezing, the wind caused by the flying players was ruffling hair and cloaks alike. The sky overhead was clear and brightly lit with a litter of stars, all the makings for a wondrous game. Fans shouted joyously when their preferred team scored, jumping up and down in their seats, waving banners and flags. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time, enjoyings the sights and event... And Eve almost wished she could as well. Truly, the game was astonishing and beautiful to watch and Eve found herself wishing that she could be a part of it all, for those players made it seem so... Effortless and graceful. The way they flew wasn't like when she had taken flight with Voldemort, Wormtail and their unknown companion. These people were flying like it was an art form, where Voldemort had been flying to simply get away. She shuddered, huddling into the cloak Voldemort had created out of her old jacket, glad that he had thought to place a warming charm on it at the last moment. Even with his arm around her, pressing her close to the railing, Eve was cold. She had forced herself as far away from his body as she could get, not wanting to be reminded of Tom, but Voldemort hadn't relinquished his tight hold around her waist. He wanted them to appear to be a normal couple, or rather, a normal wizarding couple. He would laugh and comment aloud about a team, sometimes answered by someone around them, but mostly he acted as if he were whispering to Eve.

In actuality he had barely said a word to Eve once they had gotten to their "seats", which was simply standing room on a large platform. Most often, Eve felt that his attention was trained on the glass reserve box, for royalty, celebrities and the like. She didn't have the faintest clue why he was so interested in it, only that every once in a while, when people would move in the box, he would whip his head around, much too close to her face. Eve knew it was to have the semblance of kissing her, but she already loathed the contact she was having with him, so every time he did this, she jumped. He would growl at her, tell her to act like the surrounding idiots, but it was much too difficult for Eve, for his closeness brought back sensory images of Tom that she... That she didn't much want to have at the moment. Every once in a while she would follow his directions and pretend to laugh, force a smile... But most often she had her eyes trained on the field, though she didn't see much.

"It's Potter, I know it is." Voldemort hissed beneath his breath, his hand unconsciously tightening on Eve's waist. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort, or hear her squeak with fear, for his eyes were turned up towards the Minister and his company. Eve risked a glance and saw a few adult men, maybe two women and a gaggle of assorted teenagers, all in their younger years. She wondered whether Voldemort's 'Potter' was one of the teenagers or grown men, and found herself hoping it was one of the men. Eve's thoughts were interrupted when she was knocked into the railing, the air leaving her lungs in a large whoosh. Voldemort whipped his head back to her, eyes wide, his jaw dropping slightly when he saw that she was in pain-

"Why don't you watch where you're going? Probably a filthy mudbloo-" Eve coughed and turned in what little space Voldemort allowed her and couldn't help but frown. The person whom had bumped her into the railing was a teen, probably of an age with Eve's younger brother back home, whom was 14. This boy was a bit on the short side, very slim, with a skinny face and pointed chin and a bright shock of white blond hair. His clothes were obviously expensive and Eve found herself thinking **money** when she looked at him. Though Eve was filled with curiosity, for she still didn't understand the wizarding world, Voldemort's body seemed to hum with fury.

"How _dare_ you speak in such a way to me and mine?" Voldemort relinquished his hold on Eve, instead turning to fully face the young man, grabbing hold of his shirt collar. "You little-" Eve, fearing the worst, grabbed onto Voldemort's wand arm, though her hold was tremulous at best.

"Please, _please_, My Lord! Leave the boy." Eve whispered softly, barely loud enough for Voldemort to hear. The boy hadn't seemed to catch it, but he could have easily read Eve's lips. "I'll-I-um... Whatever you ask, please, he's just a boy..." Eve trailed off, realizing that her words held very little sway with Voldemort, for hadn't he killed the old man? Instead, Tom's handsome body smiled, it was a cruel, cold smile, but one that was calm.

"Aah. A Malfoy, are you?" Voldemort asked the young man suddenly, completely ignoring Eve's words and fright. The blond boy was staring at Voldemort with a mixture of annoyance, anger and fear on his face. He sniffed, tossing some stray blond strands of hair out of his face.

"And what's it to _you_?" He sneered, gaining back his arrogance when Voldemort let go of him. For a moment, Eve was very much frightened that he would once more grab the boy, but it passed. Voldemort raised a slender, handsome eyebrow and resumed his act with Eve, slipping his arm around her waist. She felt the heat leave her body in fear and clenched her jaws, but said nothing.

"So like a Malfoy." Voldemort eyed the boy, asessing him, and, seeming appeased by his weakness, snorted. "Yes. Get you gone, _child_." Voldemort suddenly hissed, leaning close to the boy's face. Eve watched the flickers of resentment and fear, but fear won out. The boy scampered away, though his eyes rested on Eve for a few seconds longer. Voldemort wheeled Eve around to watch the game again, though she could see that he was gritting his teeth, another one of Tom's habits. He looked up at her and seemed to recognize the look on her face. A darkness settled over his features as he kept her gaze. Eve couldn't move, it was as if she were caught in the eyes of a predator about to strike and knew, _knew_ that she couldn't escape. He straightened, tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and then jerked her face to his. The kiss was as crushing as the one he had given her while she was laying prone of the pavement. It wasn't full of anything, desire, wanting, lust or kindness... The kiss was void of feeling. With a snarl he pulled a centimeter away, though anyone watching wouldn't be able to see through the curtain of Eve's hair that shielded them.

"_Respond_." He hissed, before kissing her again, though this time without the bruising force. The bare softness he was giving her this time let her feel the vibrations of anger rolling off of him and she responded, but just barely. Once she had, Voldemort pulled away, looking back over to the Quidditch game and said, so soft Eve had to strain to hear:  
"Are you happy _now_?" He obviously wasn't talking to her and Eve found it very hard to believe that he was talking simply to himself, it would make him appear too crazy... A squeezing feeling filled her chest, when Eve considered that he could be speaking to Tom, somewhere, somehow.

--

Distracted by the game, Harry hadn't noticed that Malfoy had slipped out, though Hermione had silently taken note. The bushy-haired 14 year old appeared confused, looking in between her classmate and the same couple that Harry had pointed out as odd. The same couple, with the woman Harry had nearly _sworn_ was Eve Swarthing. Hermione's sharp brown eyes focused on the two, whom were kissing. For some reason the woman didn't seem compliant enough, didn't seem... Soft enough, to enjoy such a kiss. When the man turned away from the kiss, a sharp look of anger casted over his features, Hermione gasped. The sound she made was lost as the other people in the Minister's box crowed or shouted obscenities for their teams. The man was none other than Tom Raimus, the muggle whom for some reason appeared to have made it to a secret Wizard event. The muggle who was _supposed_ to be missing, because of some association with dark magic. Easily, Hermione recalled the quotes from the Daily Prophet article. '_Couldn't tell with him, he was standing, never said a word that I saw. Thought he was in league with the wizards at first, but couldn't have been, couldn't have._' Couldn't have because he was posing as a muggle? Hermione wondered. The young woman, still tucked securely within Tom Raimus' arms, turned her eyes up towards the Minister's box and though she looked familiar... Hermione tilted her head, still watching. For some reason, the young woman's face kept appearing as if it was _shifting_.

"A spell!" Hermione said, excitedly, her voice drowned for the most part in the announcements, though both Harry and Ron now turned their attention to her.

"What's that, Hermione?" Ron questioned, his red brows drawing together in confusion. Harry seemed to have heard though and mouthed the words again. Hermione nodded and pointed to the couple Harry had been eyeing from the beginning.

"Her face looks as if it keeps shifting, moving almost. Like a disguise! And that man, I can pretty much swear Harry, that man is Tom Raimus! Look!" Harry turned his eyes back to where she pointed, waiting for the moment when the man would turn his head and jumped when he did. Tom Raimus - or Tom Riddle? The resemblance was uncanny. Harry shook his head and blinked, focusing harder, comparing it to the memories of the young Riddle he had met within the Chamber of Secrets.

"That's him alright, Hermione. Stay here, I'm going to get a closer look." And with a small explanation, the loo, of course, to Mr. Weasley, Harry was out of the Minister's box. He had just begun to walk towards the steps that would lead to Tom Raimus and the young witch when something knocked him against the wall. Harry sucked in air and stood up straight, rubbing his ribcage in confusion. What was that? He didn't see anyone near enough to have jostled him, though someone, or something had clearly pushed him into the wall of the Minister's box. Shaking his head Harry started down the stairs more slowly, looking this way and that and was suddenly joined by Hermione and Ron.

"I thought I told you-" Harry began, but Hermione interrupted him, shaking her head quickly.

"They're gone, Harry. The man, Tom Raimus, he stopped, rather weirdly, a few seconds after you left, almost like-" Ron cut in now, since apparently he had been the one to notice the strange movement.

"Almost like he was listening to something. Of course, you can barely hear out here, what with everyone yelling. So I told Hermione." The girl nodded, almost rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, once he did that he said something to the girl and then yanked her arm, leading her away into the crowd. I tried to see where they were going, but they disappeared from sight rather quickly. I don't think we have _any_ chance of finding them in this madness." Hermione frowned and then jumped when Ron suddenly crowed delightedly, pointing at the Quidditch Pitch. Harry signed, giving up the chase, they really _wouldn't_ have a chance in all these people and turned his attention back to the match.

--

"Where are we going?" Eve asked breathlessly, being dragged through the crowd like a toy. Voldemort, all vestiges of Tom's handicaps and habits gone, ignored her, so she didn't try and raise the question again. She had **felt** the invisible hand of one of his servants, had caught a few words that were being whispered in Voldemort's ears. "Harry Potter... Recognized... Little girl..." Something about this Harry Potter character he was so angry about. She ratehr hoped they were staying within the stadium, it was a relief to get away from the musty house and there was actual _food_ here... Which reminded Eve. Wormtail had brought her something to eat the night before, but it was stale, barely counted as food and Eve knew that it was also part of Voldemort's punishment for trying to run away, for attempting to hit him. She tried to steady her voice, feeling that they were slowing down.

"M-my Lord?" Eve wanted to scoff, she almost sounded like Wormtail, repeatedly muttering things about how _great_ and _wonderful_ Voldemort was, even though he treated the both of them like dirt. He breathed deeply through his nose and finally turned to her, eyeing Eve with something akin to distaste.

"What?" He asked flatly, stopping in the middle of the walkway. He was blocking some views, but the look on his face kept anyone from saying a word, Eve noticed. She felt the same way these people did. She would have kept quiet too.

"Food, I mean... It would be inconvient for you if I fainted and I apologize-" He huffed dramatically, and grit his teeth but waved down a food vendor and bought something. Eve didn't care what it was when he handed it to her. All that she cared about was that it looked edible, it was _hot_ and it would fill her stomach. She barely restrained herself from bolting it down, but Voldemort had already forgotten about her again and was looking back up at the Minister's box once more.

"A game, Harry Potter. It's all just a game. You'll find out soon enough." Voldemort whispered, his handsome features, **Tom's** handsome features relaxing into a casual blankness. Somehow he wedged them back against the railing, closer now to the flyers out on the field and silently, Eve ate her food and enjoyed the game. She was sure it wouldn't last long.

**A/N:** Been forever. Thats all I have to say.


End file.
